Mumbo Jumbo

 

Lately, I have been spending a lot of time alone. I tried to understand things, people, and myself. The more I indulged in it, the more I started finding things irrelevant. Well, it was for the sake of living that I got up from bed and thought of pursuing actions and emotions, or else I could have lied on my bed till death, finding the reason behind the mere activities I, you, and we all perform.

I often envision the world as an ongoing movie and how the camera will zoom out of my window to zoom into some other window, some other story, making all the things inside my window just as useful as the props of a drama that has been performed already.

It's funny how finding relevance around the world has led to so many theories and philosophies coming to life. Maybe each individual that began its quest of finding answers about life and being must have gotten tired mid-journey and ended up writing complex behavioural patterns he/she endured along the journey, and merely articulating the basic endurance must have made them popular, as not everyone has that ability to provide a comprehensive shape to their emotions. I must say, emotional pottery sounds cool to me.

What is finding answers or asking questions about life, after all? Why cannot I live just the way I am supposed to? What is my supposed way of living? Shouldn’t I be living on my own instincts? Then I should find my way through, then I might end up being tired, or should I just be lazy enough to not begin the whole journey of finding answers and refer to the books already written?

Life, living, purpose, all of them have their own meanings in different books, different societies, different social constructs. Science elevates me to the status of a molecule that exists for a fraction of a second; literature inspires me to be a champion of the concept of revolution and to seek the never-ending cycle of change; art makes me wonder if all of this is beautiful or bleak; and it pushes me to understand how valid my emotions are. They all have something to say, but no one can conclude my constant misery of understanding and seeking more.

Is pursuing life as easy as pursuing some religion? Is it that convenient? All I have to do is follow one of these preaching institutions and I am set for the rest of my life. I have to believe one of them is me, and that is all. I know what life is and what life is not. Or should I construct my own beliefs and pursue them? If that is the case, will I become yet another institution for the rest of the world? It is so sad to acknowledge that we as men get weaker while believing and making those beliefs strong enough to carve through the traces of time.

For one moment, I may wonder how futile we are as people for the universe when we are told to look at the big picture, but the next moment, if any of my loved ones is in excruciating pain and fighting for their lives, the universe becomes a speck for me and all my beliefs seek an eternal hope for some betterment. Who is providing hope now? Or maybe it is about finding peace? Peace is so subjective.

I guess it is all a vicious game of belief. I guess we are still apes, fighting to survive, but God bless us for making it harder every day, again harder for those who seek more than what is given already. I guess solution-seeking tendencies are quite discomforting. 

I am not concluding this write-up. I do not know what the conclusion is. I will probably never know.

© Kashish Saxena